To Zion Goes I
by liverpuddle
Summary: Some 7 years after the tumult of high school, Rachel is roughly where she and everyone else thought she would be. But no one quite knows where Quinn ended up after her first year of college. A vacationing Kurt's sighting puts her back on Rachel's radar


**This is the brainchild of an idea rattling around in my head for awhile, coupled with being home and slightly feverish and sick, added to largely canceled plans for the holiday, including an annual get together where I get to see old friends. Anyway, it all came together in my fevered little brain. Hope you enjoy. If you like this, I do know where it is going. Which trust me, is unusual for me. I liked the idea of catching up with them after college. I like the idea of Quinn having a beer. What can I say? I will say that I do intend for it to take place primarily in the future.**

**Spoilers: Uh. None. Zilch. Okay, except Quinn's pink hair experiment. After that? None.. In fact, I am so far behind in the actual show that if there IS a spoiler, I assure you it is unintended. And I might be clairvoyant or something. In which case I should buy a lottery ticket.**

**_====oooo====_**

"You are kidding me. You are clearly crazy drunk, or just plain crazy. I don't know whether to be relieved or worried I let you two run off unattended for this debauchery or not."

"I am not crazy. And I'm sure the ATL will still be standing when PrideFest is over. It has nothing to fear from me. But I swear Rachel Barbra Berry, I kid you not. As I live and breathe, I do declare that I see one Quinn Fabray, wielding a guitar and garbed remarkably similar to her "I'm a rebel skank' era gear circa 2011. Sans the pink hair, praise the lord."

Rachel Berry speared another cucumber from her salad and scrunched up her face, chewing. "You are crazy, Kurt. That 'ATL' heat has gone to your head. And quit talking like Scarlett O'Hara, or your weird take on 'southern. You are not pulling it off.'

"Oh but I am. Ever since you did _Memphis_, you think you are so good at it. Pfft. And come on! It is so cute on everyone down here, bless their hearts." Blaine rolled his eyes and went back to staring at the female musician who was warming up. He bobbed his head thinking if the girl wasn't Quinn Fabray, it certainly looked a great deal like her from this distance. Kurt tapped his shoulder and pointed, indicating he should do more reconnaissance. He covered the phone and half-yelled over the music coming from another room. "Find a flyer sweetie, maybe it will have the line-up." Blaine nodded and moved further into the crowd while Kurt talked on.

"Well, at least it is balmy here, which is more than I can say for where you are, my dear. And hang on, prepare to take that statement back. Incoming. Check that out missy."

Rachel's smart phone buzzed a few seconds later. She made a frustrated sound and groused. "Fine, let me see." She pulled her phone away from her ear and downloaded the picture. She squinted at it, studying, scrunching up her nose, trying to make out any familiar details. All she could make out from the photo on her phone was a nondescript albeit attractive looking blonde standing on a small stage a hundred feet away. You couldn't see her face even. What was he thinking?

"Eh. So basically…blond girl with a guitar. I don't see it. And whoever that is, I would hardly say that is 'rebel' gear. I don't see combat boots. You boys have had too much to drink. And it is loud wherever you are."

"That is because we're at a music venue sweetie. My Sister's Room, or something like that. Mostly it seems to be a bunch of barking mad lesbians." Kurt sniffed as he looked around. "Ones that don't get out much from what I can see. What is the lesbian obsession with tank tops? Really? Anyway, we thought we'd scout for you in case you ever have any dates you're playing in Atlanta."

Rachel shook her head and glared, forgetting her friend couldn't see her. "You're a funny boy. You don't have magic fairy powers, you know that right? You calling me lesbian does not make it so. A few flings do not make it so."

"Yeah, yeah. Well it makes you...hang on. Define a few."

Looking around at the group seated nearest her, who based on their sudden rapt attention were eavesdropping on her, she lowered her voice. "Where is Blaine? He needs to smack some sense into you. "

"Oh that'll be later, ma'am. You should see the chaps he…"

"No! Nah nah nah, I can't hear you! Good lord, Kurt you really are three sheets to the wind, aren't you? Is Blaine sane?"

Kurt rolled his eyes, but didn't deny it as he sipped his pleasantly crisp adult beverage. "Pfft, you're no fun. Blaine is fine, he says hi."

Stabbing at another mushroom with vigor she knew Kurt was pretend pouting. "Right. Well, anyway I think the show doesn't hit Atlanta until the spring. And if I did want to trawl for a date, which I don't, I'm not sure I would go to some place called My Sister's Room. That just sounds… wrong. Not to mention an inconceivable place to find Quinn Fabray. Not that I would be trawling for Quinn…or women. Oh never mind."

Kurt giggled, over his pout. "Whatever my dear. Frankly my dear I don't—"

"Don't say it!"

"—Give a damn…sorry, had to be said. Anyhoo. Stand by. Just wait. The band she's in looks to be warming up to play soon."

"Who?"

"Quinn, you twit! Are YOU drunk? Don't you have matinee in a few hours?"

Rubbing her temple, Rachel sighed. Drunk Kurt did not come out that often. In all fairness, she was more apt to be a bit tipsy than he was depending on her work schedule. But Kurt out of town? That was different. All bets were off. She sighed yet again. "Right, rebel Quinn playing music in Atlanta. How silly of me to forget. Seriously, you do know you're delusional right?"

Kurt made a dismissive noise into the phone as he sat up straighter spotting Blaine again. His boyfriend made eye contact from several feet away, picking his way through a crowd of toasted lesbians and a few boys. Finally reaching the leaning space they'd carved out at the bar he shrugged. "It certainly looks like her to me. But come on, it's been what, at least what six or seven years or so since she came home that first summer? I really can't be sure."

Kurt arched his brow as he spoke into the phone. "Blaine is going to be a super sweetheart and get closer and shoot some video. Maybe find a flyer. He'll send you something in a minute." Blaine looked to the ceiling and took a deep breath before putting down his drink, again, with great drama. He backed away while genuflecting with only a small trace of sarcasm. Kurt just smiled sweetly and carried on.

"Where are you this week anyway? I forget?"

"Oh, I'm having a wicked good time in Boston. The land of the bean and the cod..."

"That's right! And how is Beantown treating you? Are the Cabots and Lodges knocking down your hotel door?"

"It's Lowell's and Cabots. Not Lodges. And I'm certain neither one of those esteemed families would care to invite a Jewish daughter of a gay interracial couple to dinner, Broadway performer or not. "

"Performer? Please. You're a star baby. Boston Brahmins might have a stick up their collective asses, but they still go to the Theatre, no?"

"Who knows? They do at least fund it, so I'll give them that. Either way, this wannabe star is very grateful to have only the matinee to worry about today."

"Wait, don't you usually take that off and do the night performance?"

"Yeah, but I think I'd rather have the evening with Tina and Mercedes than just the afternoon."

"True. This way you all can get in to trouble and not worry about being late for the curtain…"

"That was ONE time, and that was traffic!"

"If you count making the cab pull over because you thought you were going to disgorge the contents of your stomach after a 'few' drinks with them last time, then sure it was the 'traffic.'"

"Not my fault! I knew shouldn't have let them take me out for my birthday!"

"Which is what I said at the time, if you recall…"

"Oh hush."

She tapped her phone impatiently as she picked through more of her pre-show meal of salad, fruit and bottled water. She only had about thirty minutes before she had to get backstage to start the 'greening' process.

She hoped she wouldn't regret this move. She once again found herself questioning her decision to agree to join the _Wicked_ touring company. It was a little dated now. And the makeup process was harrowing. If it wasn't a role that she'd idolized since she could remember, she would never have considered it. She'd probably be working on something new.

But she wasn't. She was on a self-imposed six month exile, touring with Wicked. And mostly she loved it if she wanted to be honest. But not today. Today, she just wished she had the day off.

Kurt's voice cut into her thoughts again. "Wow, Rachel. I shit you not. It is totally her. I'm hanging up. Text me when you're finished watching what Blaine sends you."

"Whatever, I'll try. I have to get going to hair and makeup soon, so don't hold your breath. I'll text you after the show. Stay out of trouble Hummel…"

"But of course, my dear."

Five minutes late she still saw no sign of incoming media, but still for some reason she felt anxious. She checked her watch. She really did have to go. It would have to wait. She couldn't be late for hair and makeup.

**_====oooo====_**

After the makeup crew helped complete the broad strokes of applying the body paint, she let them get to their other responsibilities, and gladly took over the finishing touches to her face. Truth be told, as much as a social person as she was known to be, she really needed some quiet time before the cast gathered for their pre-show huddle. She cocooned until that last moment every time, alone in her dressing room.

She penciled her eyebrows darkly, almost ready for the prop glasses. It was automatic now, and she let her mind wander just a bit.

Quinn Fabray. Their relationship had never been smooth. Never easy.

She paused a moment in front of the mirror, her eyes losing focus as she recalled one of the last of those brief, typical, and often frustrating, and always oddly intense conversations she'd had with that most mercurial of girls.

Those push-me-pull-you moments punctuated and all but defined their relationship. Neither of them knew why, had even said as much to each other by the end their senior year.

Rachel only knew it felt like Quinn would machine-gun scattershot little nuggets of revelation at her, ready or not. Sometimes it went both ways. And she rarely put the pieces together until later.

_**====oooo==== **_

It was the last bittersweet week of school; preparation for graduation was taking place in the auditorium. Warm sunny days of excitement and hope and apprehension and relief all at once. At least for her. She didn't know that day that Quinn was about to drop off most people's radars.

She still remembered standing outside the north entrance, hearing the offhand news from her former nemesis she was off to some small college in Tennessee of all places. Not somewhere in California, not Texas (she was under the impression Cheerleading and football were big there). Not even Ohio State. She remembered the resigned look on the other girl's face when she had blankly answered she was going to college in Nashville. Rachel had naively thought it was due to Cheerleading opportunities, or perhaps even music. Country music wasn't her particular preference, but perhaps Quinn wanted to be near Music City.

Quinn snorted sarcastically. "Yeah right. Yee HAW! Yeah. That's so me." She'd laughed shortly again without any real feeling. "I will actually miss you Berry." Looking a little embarrassed by what she'd let out, she quickly recovered. "Or at least your 'bright side' mentality. So yes. Off I go. As it happens, needs must. Made a deal with the devil. Edwards University."

Quinn watched the tilt of the head and the quizzical look as the smaller girl went through a mental catalogue of schools, coming up blank.

"No cheerleading this past year. No cheerleading means no scholarship." She shrugged as she wound her thankfully no longer pink hair into a short pony tail. "My dad offered to pony up."

Semi-realization dawned on Rachel, and her face brightened somewhat. "Well that's good. Right? That your dad came through I mean."

The arched eyebrow told Rachel that things were not quite what they seemed; she sighed and explained further.

"Oh, did I not mention the fact that my dad's sudden largesse has caveats? Did I forget to mention it is a religiously affiliated school. In the Bible Belt. Think Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God' Berry. Can you imagine what it will be like?"

The blonde half grimaced at the small 'o' that Rachel's lips had formed. "Oh, that Edwards."

"Ah, now you're getting it I see." She shrugged as nonchalantly as she could, taken aback at herself once again sharing things she had not planned on sharing with anyone, much less with Rachel Berry. She wasn't sure why it was important to her that Rachel know where she was going. What she was doing. She schooled her features into what she hoped was something like casual indifference."You know, 'get thee to a nunnery' and all that shit. Guess it will restore my oh-so-immaculate reputation round these here parts. right? At least with good ol' dad."

Rachel didn't know what to say. She just stared.

"Yeah, so we have some family down there. Or kinfolk as I guess I should call them. Which is probably the only reason I'm not 'getting' to go to Oral Roberts or someplace worse." She stopped and adjusted her backpack.

The hazel eyes that Rachel had seen flash and sear into people's psyche's looked comparatively dull now. It was jarring.

Rachel still didn't know what to say. Lacking anything verbal to offer she stepped forward reaching out, not sure what to actually touch. She ended up grasping a shoulder and squeezing it, feeling lame. She held it a moment, surprised Quinn hadn't stepped backward. Instead, she watched as Quinn put her own hand on Rachel's shoulder and felt her squeeze in return, and let it run down to grasp her hand briefly. Rachel mirrored the gesture with her own hand, and tried to smile reassuringly as she still searched for something to say.

"I'm sorry Quinn. I don't know all your hopes and dreams. We…have never really been…that kind of close, have we?" Faced with the inevitable raised eyebrow, Rachel cleared her throat and stumbled on. "Regardless, I'm sorry you're in this predicament. Maybe you can transfer after a year?"

The blond grunted lightly, noncommittally. "Maybe."

Rachel stood staring, taking in the beautiful but melancholy girl. They had been through the teenage hell of high school together. They'd done things both helpful and hurtful; honed each other. Even if they hardly interacted or barely spoke, it seemed they could never escape each other.

Until now. And it was liberating and sad and scary all at once. They were familiar, friends and foes. Rachel took a deep breath trying to find something memorable to say. Something to leave an impression with the once mighty and still somehow magnificent Quinn Fabray. But those hazel eyes had snapped too brightly and she'd cleared her throat, and nothing came to mind.

Rachel had cleared her own throat and allowed herself to squeeze the warm hand in hers. When the hand squeezed back something moved her to speak words she had thought more than once over the past three years. Why not now? "You know, Quinn, if it weren't for boys, and us being so silly about them? Maybe we would have been friends."

She was not surprised to feel Quinn withdraw her hand. She was actually more surprised to NOT hear a derisive snort. She watched as the taller girl crossed her arms against her chest, felt herself only gently mocked.

Quinn shifted on her feet. When Rachel only met her gaze with a sincere shrug and curiosity in those brown eyes, she walked right into that trap. Again. As she had a habit with this one girl, this one tiny, annoyingly persistent person, she opened a chink more. What was one more chink after all? She breathed out. "We were. Friends that is."

Sophomore Rachel would have swooned at this admission. But she wasn't that Rachel anymore, at least not completely, and she battled the old swell of that indefinable *some*thing in her gut.

Playing it cool was never Rachel's strong suit, but she gave it a try. "Were we? I'm glad you feel that way Quinn. It was all I ever wanted. At any rate, perhaps we'd have been better friends. But then again, I'm a little crazy. Or that is what my dads say." She grinned just a little, trying very hard not to mourn something that never was.

Quinn appraised her, looking her directly in the eyes again, finally nodding approvingly at what she saw there, and Rachel wished more than anything she knew what it was Quinn had seen. Wished she could save that knowledge away, to have it to pull out and look at when she needed it. She didn't know where the need for acceptance from this girl across from her came from. It just had always been that way.

And instead of the answer to what Quinn saw in her at that moment, she was left with a cryptic smile and some small grudging acknowledgement. Better than nothing. And with Quinn, she had always had to settle anyway.

"Perhaps 'better' would have been nice, Berry. I'll have to agree that I have managed to let boys royally fuck up my world. So who is to say you're not right? No Finn, No Puck? Maybe we could have been friends." The last part was said quietly. But then Rachel watched her look up and place her hands on her hips, opening up her stance and relaxing again as she continued. "And maybe I could have taken to wearing argyle and Unicorn sweaters." She smiled and winked to soften it, make it the banter it had become, blunt the old edges. "Okay. No I couldn't. But! I could have been the one to convince you not to wear those hideous things. Oh the possibilities."

Rachel smiled knowingly, even as a part of her tried to not to feel the small crush of something lost as Quinn turned to familiar ground for them. She played into it effortlessly as they had these last few months of their senior year. Close, feint, parry, counter-attack. Inwardly she sighed. Sometimes with Quinn you had to live with the bait and switch. But she stepped up and played her part.

"And I could have convinced you not to clog your arteries with mounds of heart-attack inducing bacon. Oh, oh, and I could have worked with you on voice so that…"

"I'm not so 'pitchy'?"

They stopped and both smiled, realizing those sore spots were scabbed over now and were only good for a small fun rise and didn't carry the hurt or the venom they had once.

"Well, guess we'll never know will we Berry?"

"Guess not Fabray."

They shared another slightly grim, but genuine smile. It was easy to feel above that now. The future was ahead. They had the world to look forward to now.

Or at least one of them did. Quinn pressed her lips in a tight smile. "Listen. We had our moments, didn't we? We were epic, in our way, right?"

"That we did, Fabray. And yes we were."

They shared another smile. And then time caught up around them, and this moment was ending. Again.

As always they reached some pre-defined limit neither girl ever understood. And so it was with some relief that Puck appeared, swooping them both into his arms, side-hugging them with a loud whoop.

"Graduation party at my house Saturday night, got it?"

"Of course Puck" and "wouldn't miss it Noah" were intoned simultaneously with affection.

"That's my hot Jew…and my ba—oof! Quinn."

They saw each other again that Saturday at Commencement. It was brief, but she remembered every part of it. Remembered it like it was yesterday. Unlike the graduation party.

**_====oooo====_**

Outside it felt too warm for June. The football field was small looking now, so crowded with people. It was hot, and she was flushed with excitement. Parents, families, cameras everywhere. Friends hugging, hats strewn about. Quinn had on white pumps under her red robes, she remembered that.

It was somehow no surprise that she and Quinn found themselves in a relative bubble of quiet together. Quinn half cocked a smile at her, acknowledging they would talk. "Congratulations Berry. Rachel. You know if we had done better in Physics, that could have been you giving that speech.

"Or you, Quinn. And Mike did an admirable job. But yes, we should have studied harder for that Final."

"Mike was boooring. And Glee needed us. Or you."

Rachel giggled. "A little. And yes, as I finally convinced you, Glee needed us. Including you."

Quinn had raised that eyebrow and half-smiled at her. "Well, in case I don't see you around this summer, what with you leaving early for the Big City, and I'm guessing…voice lessons? And…maybe Finn, in case you all are 'on again.'"

"Not likely." Rachel's interjection was quick.

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Okay then…no Finn. At any rate, I wanted to say… vaya con Dios Berry." She shrugged apologetically and stuck out her hand. Rachel looked down at it quizzically, but took the odd gesture in stride. "What can I say Berry? It has been grand."

At the comically sour look Berry put on at that comment "Okay, well maybe not always." The remorse on that face paired with the smile that appeared ever so briefly had made Rachel's heart thump off beat.

She couldn't help herself; Rachel threw herself into Quinn's chest, hugging her fiercely.

"Whoa, okay then…" Quinn let her arms drape around the smaller frame loosely, and then squeezed some. It surprised her that it was only a matter of a couple of seconds before Rachel was the one to pull away solemnly, brown eyes only a little misty. Quinn smiled lopsidedly down at her.

Rachel rocked on her toes, hands clasped in front and tried to smile. "As I've read more than a few times in my year book today, in various versions of criminal grammaticide, 'its been real, and it's been fun, but it hasn't always been real fun?'"

Quinn's eyes had actually crinkled in appreciation. "Ding, ding, ding, give the most talented girl in the room a prize. That sounds just about right. " She grinned and hoisted up her bright red graduation robes a little, and kicked off the white pumps, bringing her closer to eye level, since Rachel still had on her heels. "Well, best of luck Rachel Berry. If you survived Lima, and HBIC Quinn Fabray, not to mention Santana, then you can survive the Big Apple. Don't let it chew you up and spit you out, okay?"

Rachel ducked her head and smiled and then looked boldly at the blonde standing in her ruined hose on the thirty yard line. She could see the imposing figure of Mr. Fabray waiting several yards away, his wife Judy keeping her distance from him. She looked back to Quinn feeling the sympathy pouring through her, she smiled encouragement. "Nashville will never be the same after you hit it Fabray."

The reference to Nashville caused a wince, and Rachel hurried to make amends. Back away from that invisible line she may or may not have crossed yet. She dared to reach out and give a playful poke with her finger. "Hey, I might have watched Hell Cats before its untimely demise. Those girls seemed to know how to have fun."

Quinn laughed and smiled for real. "You watched a show about cheerleaders? What is it with you and women and short skirts, Berry? If it weren't for your myriad leading men, willing and otherwise, I'd wonder about you," she teased. When Rachel's mouth dropped she chuckled more. "And besides, if memory serves, that show took place in Memphis."

"Well that is still Tennessee last I checked."

Quinn barely bit back a snide comment regarding the singer's penchant for thinking life worked like a musical, or in this case, TV. But bite it back she did. It wasn't Berry's fault. She managed to dial down her bitterness to just a sigh. "Maybe so Berry, but in Memphis they at least have Blues and Elvis. Or maybe it is Jazz and Elvis. At any rate, they do not have a song called Honky Tonk BaDonk a Donk, or whatever the hell it is. Or…Achey Breaky Heart!"

"True," Rachel had to agree sympathetically.

"This is what I'm saying." And then it was gone and yet another moment had passed. They reached that limit they never saw coming, but always acknowledged.

Rachel smiled, once more shy. "Well, if you ever visit New York…"

Quinn nodded noncommittally, knowing that would never happen."Yeah…"

"Maybe see you over one of our school breaks, then, if you ever come home that is."

Rachel nodded enthusiastically, as if she didn't already know how seldom she would come back to this place. With Kurt and Mercedes in New York, and Tina and Mike in Boston, she would manage to see them without coming home. Returning to Lima would probably not be a frequent thing.

She only saw Quinn a handful more times that last summer. And as was apparently their habit, those encounters had always ridden a strange knife's edge of inexplicable tension and intimacy.

Maybe she was grateful she went to Pucks' party. If she hadn't been there, she may not have gone to his Fourth of July party.

_**====oooo==== **_

The loud knock at her door completely and utterly jarred her back to the present. "Miss Berry?" Another rap at the door and she cleared her throat.

"Yes…?"

What was her local production assistant's name? Something wholesome she wanted to say. Something Irish..ish? Katie? Yes that was it. She hoped.

The door opened and her fresh-faced, red-haired assistant popped her head in.

She was probably nineteen or twenty at most. Not much younger than her own almost twenty-six years.

"Hi Katie, come on in. Sorry, just finishing up."

"I wasn't sure if you needed anything after the tea and lemon Miss Berry."

"Oh, I'm fine, thank you. The tea was excellent. Stick a fork in me, I'm done here. Just help me with these damn too tall shoes. I mean, I don't know what is so wrong with letting me, well Elphaba be…well, NOT tall. I think a petite Elphaba would be just as effective."

The rather tall Katie murmured agreement, whether she actually agreed or not was not something Rachel could discern."Absolutely."

She knelt down with the bulky shoes and buttoned and them while Rachel tied the laces. Then she stood and checked for stability. "Good to go, Katie, thanks again." She took one last slug of her now cold tea and tried to focus all her thoughts on the performance. The part deserved every ounce of her respect and attention.

She stopped to look wistfully at her phone, letting her thoughts fly away again.

Yes, there were days she wished she'd skipped that graduation party. And then there were days the hazy memory of that Fourth of July party that followed kept her warm.

She didn't have time to see if Blaine had actually sent a video of some singer at PrideFest in Atlanta. And what the hell? What Kurt was swearing to made no sense. What would she be doing in Atlanta?

Her inner critic of course chimed in.

_Between 'PrideFest' and 'Atlanta', you find Atlanta the more intriguing bit of information?__  
><em>_If it turns out to be her, I'll worry about digesting the other bits at that time, thank you very much.__  
><em>_You're on. Smile.__  
><em>_Right. Here I go. Defying Gravity once more. In these ridiculous shoes._

_**====oooo==== **_

**_AN: Comments very much appreciated, let me know if you like it. Or not. Hope everyone had safe happy holidays. Much Thanks to the gf for helping me with a title finally!_**


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